


You and I'll be safe and sound

by DigitalMeowMix



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, But the son doesnt realize it, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Momma Nott, Mother-Son Relationship, Parental Love, Vignette, protective nott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:19:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalMeowMix/pseuds/DigitalMeowMix
Summary: A fierce momma goblin and her hobo wizard son bond.(5 times Nott mothered Caleb from her POV +1 from Caleb's.)





	You and I'll be safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChronicBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicBookworm/gifts).



> Thanks to LilacChica and Eirenne for making sure this wasn't complete gibberish. All other mistakes our completely my fault.

It's been about a day since she had broken out of that shitty jail and she's getting jittery. The human man from the next cell over had followed her out of jail and out of town, and she had been too busy running and stealthing for her fucking life to ask why the hell he had done it. Not that she expected an answer from the filthy man, anyway. They had spoken only as much as had been required to cook up their escape plan. The human had been very helpful at that, at least. At first she thought the man had been mute, as he hadn't cursed the guards or called for help when he had been thrown in the cell next to her. He hasn't spoken much since their escape except to suggest direction to travel.

The sun had begun to set, and she had been about to complain that her small goblin feet were killing her after their long walk, when the man trudged to under a nearby tree and seemed to melt into a dirty heap of clothing on to the grass. He muttered some words she hadn't caught and a small flame burst forth from his hands, which he had then set on the ground as a campfire against the growing dark. With only a muttered goodnight, he wrapped his tattered coat around himself and fell unconscious.

 

What in the hell? She cautiously drew closer to him to check if he had, in fact, died. She was even more shocked to hear his soft breathing, since she knew humans were so weak. They were stopped in a small clearing in the woods, surrounded by thick trees but otherwise no cover. This human obviously had no survival skills at all. But everything was turning up goblin. First she had escaped from jail and certain execution by barely lifting a finger, and now a perfectly good scavenge was presented to her without a fight. She tried not to think of the fact that, in her old clan, this would have also presented a fine meal on top of that. The man looked diseased, and she didn't fancy dying of plague; better to empty his pockets of any valuables, although he was obviously down on his luck so she'd be lucky to get 10 copper, take a torch from the fire, and leave the man to the elements and beasts.

 

She was considering whether to enjoy the fire for a bit longer, or get the looting over with and hit the road, when the man twitched and groaned a bit. She grabbed for her crossbow (which she had thankfully retrieved upon their exit from the jail) but paused a moment, curious. The man moaned again, this time louder, but did not make another movement. She relaxed a bit, but didn't take her hand off her crossbow. The man’s face was contorted and he was breathing heavily. Whatever he was dreaming of must have been extremely unpleasant. Suddenly his hands began to change and blacken and with a pop, flames began to lick into existence.

SHIT! A crossbow was useless now. Had a spark from the campfire caught on his clothing? She panicked for a moment as the flames grew from his fingertips higher and higher, threatening to set the surrounding grass aflame. Her mind blank of any other defense, and her knowledge of Common failing her, in her fear she fell back on her goblin instincts and did the only thing she could think of: she slashed the man across the face with her dirty and jagged-clawed hand, although without her full force, in hopes of waking him up.

He jolted awake with a cry of pain, and seeing his hands ablaze, he gave a sleep garbled command in a language she didn't recognize. The flames dissipated instantly, although the color of his hands was still ashy.

They both stared at each other a moment, breathing heavily, until she broke the silence with a high pitched, “Fuck! What the hell was that? You were on fire!”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry that doesn't usually happen, it won't happen again, shit shit I'm sorry,” the man babbled.

She grabbed his hands and found that, other then being covered in soot and a bit warm, both were unharmed.

“How?” she demanded.

“Magic, like the fire that helped us escape. The fire doesn't harm me. At least not this kind of fire.” His voice seemed remarkably calm for someone that had just caught fire.

”Thank you by the way, for helping me escape.” He paused a moment. “And for just now. That was quick thinking”

She shrugged, unaccustomed to praise, and took out her flask. She took a big gulp to calm her shaken nerves. After a moment, she handed it to him. The man accepted it with a murmur of thanks.

“Explain it to me,” she demanded. She sat down in front of where he laid.

He seemed puzzled for a moment, but then began explain in detail how the spell worked, how it felt, how powerful it was. He talked a quite a while until he said, “I really am very tired so I would like to try against get some rest, this time without flames. Is that alright?”

She thought a moment. “Sure, but next time I shoot you to wake you up.”

“That's fair.” He nodded “Goodnight Ms.…?” 

“Nott, Nott the brave,” she replied, surprised by her own honesty. The last beings that had known her name had not deserved to use it. This strange man could self combust; it was likely a bad idea to get any closer to him

The man gave a small smile. The smile appeared rusty and out of use, but genuine.

“My name is Caleb, and thank you, Nott “

His smile was so pathetic that it made her own face twinge in sympathy. She smiled back, remembering that smiling was a human thing that seemed to be used to manipulate others to get what you want -- at least, that's what the clan elders said. Although she supposed her own smile was awkward as well, it was also much more gruesome, with her rows of crooked and yellow razor-sharp teeth. Intimidation was a skill all goblins learned at an early age, and against fire, it was all she had.

The man named Caleb seemed unfazed.

Well shit. Maybe they could be awkward together for awhile longer. Setting people on fire was a mighty useful skill that she could use to her advantage

 

The Tipsy Unicorn Bar and Inn was great place to get drunk, as the clientele and establishment obviously didn't mind serving either filthy wizards or goblins. But their lack of standards showed in their lodging quality .The room Nott and Caleb were sharing was freezing cold. This would not have presented such a problem if Caleb's magic hadn't been tapped for the day. They both laid in their beds, shivering, tossing and turning, trying to sleep. Nott's sharp teeth chattered in her skull as she turned to see that Caleb was curled up in his threadbare bed with his dirty coat wrapped around him tight

She thought of the day they endured, hoping to distract herself from the fact that she could barely feel her feet. They had been attacked by a few imps while traveling to this podunk town and, in the process, Frumpkin had been killed. The orange tabby had been scouting ahead in the woods as they walked, when they had heard a ghastly cry of an animal in peril. By the time they had rushed ahead, Frumpkin had already been poofed to the other plane of existence. It had taken hours to kill the imps, and by then it had become dark. They had just dragged themselves to the Tipsy Unicorn and had had a few ales between them, Nott having considerably more than Caleb, before they both had realized how exhausted they were . 

As they had been getting ready for bed, she had noticed Caleb was very quiet. He had been becoming more talkative in the past few days, but he had simply taken off his boots and placed his books briskly on the bedside table and climbed into bed. He must be upset about his cat, then. Caleb had explained shortly after they had first met that Frumpkin was a Fey familiar, not a flesh and blood animal, and that he could be brought back after death as long as he had the right magical materials. The idea of a cat from another world weirded her out, but he was certainly useful. 

She had seen since they met how Caleb doted on Frumpkin at times, stroking him after a hard day and speaking gently to him as he gave his familiar instructions. She didn't think Caleb currently had anymore materials to create Frumpkin again, though, and with their luck as of late, Frumpkin may be gone for a long time. This thought combined with the ale in her gut compelled her to speak

"I'm uh... sorry about your cat," she whispered.

For a few moments she hoped that he was asleep, that her pitiful excuse for comfort would go unnoticed. 

"Danke," he muttered sleepily from under his coat 

She didn't know what that meant, but she hoped it was good.

After a few more minutes, she was tired of being freezing and admitted it was time for drastic measures. She rolled out of bed, tiptoed to Caleb's bed, and crawled in as gently as possible. Caleb stirred slightly, and she held her breath. Was this a step too far? But he seemed to be making room. She was small enough that the adjustment only took a moment. Their shared body heat seemed to be a vast improvement for both of them. As she listened to his soft breathing as he drifted off, she remembered a noise that Frumpkin had made as he had cuddled on Caleb's shoulder while he read sometimes. She coaxed her throat to recreate the noise now. It came out more like a growl then the smooth exhale the cat had made. She was about to stop embarrassed, when Caleb wrapped his left arm around her shoulder and gave a small sigh. She smiled to herself, pleased, and fell asleep.

 

The back of the cart was not usually so cramped; but with the variety of new supplies they were hauling it was a tight fit for three people, even one as small as Nott was. Molly was upfront, driving as Yasha scanned the horizon for danger beside him. Jester was curled up in a remarkably small ball beside her, with her tail curled around her, the way Frumpkin sometimes slept. Beau and Fjord seemed to be keeping pace with WC and cart as they walked on either side. Caleb had been scribbling in his spell book for several hours, with the help of a goblight, but had recently fallen asleep, his head slumped to the side and his book on his lap. 

This surprised her. Caleb was not a foolish man, so for him to have fallen asleep so suddenly around others showed a kind of trust that baffled her. They barely knew these people yet; they could gut them and leave them in a ditch at the slightest whim. Well maybe not Jester. The rest of them were were shifty assholes, which suited her just fine. But Caleb? He was too squishy to run with this crew for long.

She watched him sleep. With his dirty face slack, he barely seemed to be breathing. Only his chest rising slightly under his filthy coat showed signs of life. A peaceful sleep was not something Nott was familiar with. Even a well-protected clan that had no need for regular night watches still filled the night the sounds of squabbling, snoring, and bloodlust-filled revelry that went on ‘til dawn most nights. She watched his sleeping face and it occurred to her that he looked younger, suddenly (not that she even knew his exact age, and aging was weird for humans anyway). She only knew he was an adult, at least.

But no matter. He was young, but he looked even younger asleep soundly next to her. If not content, then at least peaceful for the moment. Caleb needed some peace, she thought. She had another thought that watching someone sleep was probably creepy, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop.

As she gazed at him, a memory came to her. She remembered a time when she had peeked into a window in a village her clan had been casing for a future raid. Through the windows had been a small room where a halfling child slept tucked into a cot. She had been scanning the room for valuables, when the door had opened suddenly and the light of candle entered the room, illuminating the child's face. But she had not stirred. There, holding the candle, was a a young halfling women. Nott had crouched down quickly to avoid being seen, and then peeked over the window still curious. The woman had stood there for several minutes, staring into the dark of the room, at the small form on the cot. Then, in the dim light of the candle, she saw the women smile warmly and close the door.

The look on that women's face had been a mixture of emotions she had not been able to place at the time, and would not fully understand for many years to come; until now. It was a look she had never given or received. But here, in this cart, on a dark road to parts unknown, with the sounds of hooves and nighttime mixing with the gentle snoring of Jester, and the exhale and inhale of breath of her partner in crime, she looked at this dirty, broken man, and her small goblin heart clenched. 

 

The night was cool and crisp as the Mighty Nein settled around the campfire for the night. Molly had just finished feeding WC and was gazing at the beautiful sky. Fjord was turning the plump rabbits he had hunted earlier in the evening on sticks that were roasting upon the open flame, ignoring Nott’s whining over when dinner would be ready. Jester was sitting on the dewy grass and doodling in her notebook, allowing Beau to look over her shoulder from where she seemed to be pretending to meditate. Jester’s mischievous smile widened at each of the grumpy monk’s occasional laughs at whatever humorous or dirty sketch she was working on. She didn't know where Yasha had Yasha-ed, to or when she would be back, but Molly seemed unbothered by her absence, so she supposed it wasn't worth worrying about

Caleb sat on a tree stump a few feet apart from the group, scribbling in his spell notebook. Bored of watching the meat cook, she approached him.

"What are you doing? she asked as she looked over his shoulder. In the notebook were pages covered in loopy handwriting of symbols she didn't recognize. Caleb turned quickly, a bit startled out of his concentration, then he smiled gently as he saw it was just her.

"I am working on a spell; it's very simple but think would be very useful." He paused a moment to ascertain if Nott was interested, which was silly.

Ever since she learned of his magic, she had been enthralled by his powers. Magic was a concept that both mystified and terrified most goblins, but Nott wanted to know everything she could. “What's the spell for?” She pressed him onward.

His smile smile grew larger and he continued, "It's called message, It allows me send a short message to another creature's mind, and they can respond in my mind. It could be good for the group, don't you think? That way we can keep in contact on future jobs.”

The idea of Caleb's voice in her head was intriguing, but she didn't know if she wanted to include the rest of the group in this just yet. A secret language could work wonders for cons and general stealing, but as much as the rest of the group was certainly entertaining at times, unless they were rooming together at night, she had very little time to talk to Caleb privately. She missed those conversations, sparse as they were.

She thought a moment, and asked before she could lose her nerve. 

"When you learn it, do you think you could teach me?"

Caleb didn't look mocking or disgusted at her question, even though she knew the idea of a goblin learning magic must seem preposterous to a wizard. Instead he looked surprised, but excited. 

"Of course! Here, come sit by me, and I'll go over what I've memorized of the spell so far.” He patted the ground by the stump. and she sat down beside him.

They went over the spell in his notebook together for a few minutes, Caleb carefully explaining it in a way she found was easy to understand, until Fjord called them over for dinner.

As she ate she pondered what other kinds of magic Caleb could learn, and what he could then teach her.

 

Caleb is on the ground and he's not moving.

There are other things happening that might be considered more important. There is a rabid owlbear shrieking in rage to Nott’s left, beak already bloody from chewing on Jester’s tail, Beau’s staff, and Fjord’s leg. There was a truly pitiful downpour of cold rain swamping them and making the terrain of their fight slippery with mud. She hasn't had time to count, but she's pretty sure she's almost out of crossbow bolts. Not that it would matter, as her aim with her crossbow has dwindled to shit in this weather.

These things are happening all around her, but she's stopped noticing them. It's white noise, because all that matters is the Caleb isn't getting up after being bashed across the head by the owlbear before he could finish casting his next spell. 

 

She has just enough range of movement to leap over the large rock in her way and bolt to the wizard’s side. He's not unconscious, but he's barely moving, just laying there groaning and shaking a bit. His head is bleeding quite a bit and his eyes are unfocused. She swears a blue streak and looks behind her though the sheets of rain. Jester is double-team bashing the owlbear with Beau, whacking it like a toy she saw some halfling children play with once. So yelling for healing is useless, then.

“Caleb? Caleb, listen, stay awake, ok?” she yelps in his ear over the rush of the rain.

Caleb lifts his head from the mud at the sound of her voice. He’s not looking at her though, more to the left of her and a bit higher.

“No!” she snaps shrilly. “Just stay down, it's ok, just stay down, a little more mud won't hurt you,” she chuckles in spite of herself. He makes a noise like he's trying laugh as well. They had just been to an inn with a good washroom the night before, but the minimal improvement of his hygiene was ruined now.

She concentrates on remembering if she has any medicine or healing potions in her pack and comes up with a big fat nothing. She doesn't realize until she hears Caleb sigh and stop shaking that she’s been running her left hand through his messy soaked hair, the other gripping onto his shoulder too tightly. She lessens her grip, but doesn't stop her other hand.

She hears a scream like a dying animal and glances behind her, confirming the source is, in fact, the owlbear collapsing with a giant wound in its side. Jester scans the battlefield, and goes pale as she sees Nott gathered around the prone Caleb. She runs to join her. After a few minutes of looking him over, she gives her diagnosis.

“He has a concussion, I think,” Jester reports gently. “We should bring him to the cart to get him out of the mud, then I’ll fix him in a jiffy!” 

She's bracing herself to drag Calb to the cart as gently as she possible when Fjord steps up, upon hearing Jester’s instructions, and gingerly hoists him into his arms. Caleb groans in pain.

“What the fuck?” she shrieks, and the only reason she doesn't lunge at Fjord is because he might drop Caleb.

“Nott, its ok, he’s just trying to help!” Jester reassures her as she puts her blue hand on Nott’s sleeve to hold her back.

Fjord look at her seriously, unblinking even though rain is pouring down his face.

“I promise on my life, I’ll be careful with him Nott, you have my word.”

Damn Fjord and his sauve, green, handsome face. She steps back and lets him walk towards the cart. Jester pats her shoulder comfortingly and goes to attend to the others. Nott dogs Fjord’s steps and then runs ahead to make a spot on the cart for Caleb to lay down. As soon as Fjord lays the wizard down, Nott sits by him and resumes stroking his hair. He’ll be alright. She’ll make sure of it. And it seemed least for a little while she may have help keeping him safe.

 

The first sign that something was amiss was the giggling. Caleb had taken a seat at a table near the back of the tavern, where it was a tad quieter than usual, to look over some recent book purchases. He alternated between slowly turning the pages of the book, enraptured by it’s contents, to remembering that he had a stein of ale beside him and drinking deeply before it got any warmer as he read. He had learned a long time ago to drown out distraction while reading, so most of the nearby noise of the pub passed by him without notice. But the giggles, that joyful noise, had become a surprising addition to his life after joining the Mighty Nein. Each time the sound hit his ears, it was a shock; a warm glow of flame after freezing. He glanced up to see that Jester had entered the foyer, followed by Nott. 

They were both grinning widely, or at least, he assumed Nott was under her mask. Her ears were normally a useful barometer for her mood, but they were stuffed into her hood. As the girls approached, he noticed Jester’s simple but well-made clothes were slightly askew, the pockets of her dress were bulging, and unless something had changing dramatically overnight, the bosom of her dress strained oddly. There was also a streak of what appeared to be white powder down her front. He barely had time to sigh and reluctantly ask the question he was afraid of hearing the answer to, before a large pile of baked goods -- what looked to be cupcakes and Bon bons and marzipan smushed together into an unholy abomination of smeared frosting and dripping crumbs -- was plopped down on the table in front of him.

 

“Tada!” they chirped in unison.

 

Caleb looked at the mess in front of him and his mind went blank on a response. What was he meant to say to such a strange bounty? He thought for a moment. “Thank you, but I am afraid I don't have much a sweet tooth,” he stuttered finally, trying not to smile, as that would only encourage them.

 

“Ah, but loot always tastes better,” Nott pointed out, in between licking her sticky fingers. 

“And it's still fresh this time, except it's quite smushed, but it it still tastes good!” Jester added.

“A bag for your purchases was not provided?” Caleb asked, already knowing the question was pointless.

They both giggled again, Nott's a bit more throaty, sounding like a bird squawking instead of the young halfling girl she appeared to be. It shook her mask a bit. She also had a streak of what must have been powdered sugar on her hood.

“Nott, Leibchen, we are meant to keep a low profile remember?” he gently reminded. If her itch needed to be scratched, he felt better if he accompanied her at least. It's not that he didn't trust Jester -- she and Nott had become fast friends and Jester was a sweet girl that would look after her -- but when the two combined it was a whirling dervish of bad decisions.

“She was helping me!” Jester blurted out in her little friends defense. “Traveller business!” As if that made it ok, like it was a safe errand like going to the market and having Nott hold the basket.

Caleb had vision of a small bakery, with two inches of flour covering the entire floor, chocolate frosting covering the walls, and thick, black smoke billowing from the hearth.This, of course, assumed the bakery had not already burnt down from whatever Trickster God-approved prank the deadly combination of Nott and Jester had executed earlier.

He was broken from his reverie by Nott. “You hardly ate your breakfast, you picked at your bacon, and didn't even touch your goat milk,” she accused as she pushed the sugary mess closer to him. “I picked out the stuff with the cream filling just for you!” She seemed to be pointing to a certain part of the pile as if to show it off, but he honestly couldn't identify what ingredients were present. 

Caleb sighed. He had learned quickly how it was sometimes best to just go along with goblin logic at times, and he admitted to himself that he was touched by his little friend’s kindness. Nott’s soft side was a rare sight, and must be properly cherished.

“Thank you, Nott, that was thoughtful of you. I will have some as a treat after I finish my drink ja?” 

Nott nodded, looking satisfied, and followed Jester upstairs. Caleb wondered if the rest of Mighty Nein were about to be lucky recipients of illicit desserts as well.

A few minutes later, when he went to sip from his ale again, he found a few pink sprinkles floating in his cup, and smiled to himself as he took a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift. Cheesy but it fits!
> 
> My first 5+1 fic!


End file.
